


The Original Soldier

by Inu_Sama



Series: WALKING DEAD FICS [1]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crossover, F/F, F/M, Frank Castle POV, Frank Castle is Shane Walsh, I love the punisher, Ive only seen the recent TV versions of both shows, M/M, PTSD, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Torture, Violence, Walkers, frank castle appreciation fic, i hope it makes sense, sproadic updates, with head jumping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13999737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inu_Sama/pseuds/Inu_Sama
Summary: Frank Castle as Shane Walsh, he was sent to the middle of nowhere by Karen so he could 'cool off' and avoid any 'triggers' as he was getting out of control after everything that happened with Russo.Pairing might be subject to change.





	1. When It Rains, It Fucking Pours

Frank Castle had always been a survivor. Always in control of his own fate, one way or another. Despite this, true freedom had managed to elude him time and time again. 

Even if he was walking amongst the civilians that braced against the harsh bite of winter as they did last minute Christmas shopping, he was never free from the grief or the anger. 

Especially the anger. It always simmered under the surface of his skin, dogged his every step until he ended up finding himself at the bottom of a bottle.

It was after a particularly violent binge that Karen’d had enough and sent him to the backwaters of Kentucky, saying he needed to ‘cool off’ and be as far away from his ‘triggers’ as possible. Evidently that was a small town named Cynthiana, a few hundred miles from Cincinnati. 

She set him up with a new name and history and had his sorry ass on a plane before he could even argue. After he got over the shock, that familiar anger filled his veins, warming the center of his chest. 

But he was on a plane full of innocent people, he wouldn’t be able to find a release for the fire inside him. So he did something he had never bothered to do before; he tried to calm down. 

To let it go, rationalise and compartmentalise until the warmth receded, starting from his fingertips to finish in the center of his chest where it still simmered like a small sun.

Karen was only trying to help him, she could see that his stubborn ass was going off the rails when all was said and done with Russo. 

He was like a bull that didn’t have a target and was locked up in a small cage with nothing to do other than let his anger fester until it burst from him in an animalistic display of brutality. 

She was just trying to help him in the only way she could, by getting him away from the memories, the stink of corruption within the city, before it could consume him completely. 

_ 'You’re better than some rabid animal, Frank. Why don’t you see that?’ _

So it wasn’t Frank Castle that stepped off that plane, but Shane Walsh. 

And it had worked for a while, he’d joined the local police, a small group that never really saw enough action for Frank to have a chance to slip backwards. 

He even made a friend, an honest-to-god friend. And he was a good, good man that Rick. Right down to the bone. A baser part of himself snarled at the naivety of his partner, but Frank was just happy to have him. 

The man was too blinded by it to see the monster ‘Shane’ really was. And maybe… just maybe he was a tiny bit happy with his life in Cynthiana.

But true to form, he would never be allowed peace and quiet for long. No matter what name he gave himself. 

Frank drove the knife through the skull of his opponent, right down to the hilt before ripping it out in one smooth and practised move. The walker went down like a sack of potatoes, rotten brain matter oozing onto the tarmac. 

He didn’t pause though, and kept mowing through the small horde to get to the RV. Shane could see the others watching in horrified awe from behind the safety of the RV’s windshield. 

It stirred memories to life that he had wished would stay dead, but no matter how he tried to ignore it, Russo’s voice slithered through his mind, sending a thrill of electricity down his spine.

‘ _ Guys like us, Frank, we need this! It's all we're good for. Just a couple of assholes who thought we could have the good things in life. But we are not good people, Frank. We never were! What happens when we're dead? Nothing. Who mourns us, huh? Nobody. Me and you, Frankie... we're the same. _ ’ 

Frank had been disgusted with his brother for thinking that he could drag The Punisher down to his level. But these past three years, with their slow-paced and repetitive monotone had given his mind more than enough time to think and reflect. 

And the conclusion he had come to was not a pleasant one, to think that maybe Russo was right all along - that he could see the beast within Frank as much as he could his own. 

War was all he was good for, what he craved, what he needed to keep the nightmares at bay. Since this whole apocalypse thing started and everything turned into a variation of his life as a soldier - he felt at home.

He felt the peace he was supposed to achieve with his impromptu ‘exile’, but only could on the surface before.

Frank didn’t bother trying to get inside the RV when he was close enough, instead he climbed the ladder to the roof. It would have been dangerous to try and open the door when there were still so many walkers around. 

Plus, he just didn’t want to deal with the snivelling idiots inside as he’d already expended enough energy killing a path to the only ‘safe’ place in this sea of dead bodies. 

He wouldn’t have the patience. They were running low on food and water, he would need as much strength as he could get to keep this dwindling group of survivors alive. It was a tough process, as everyone always thought they knew better. 

Frank snorted at that thought, as if a bunch of civilians knew how to survive better than a  _ marine! _

He could hear Dale’s voice through the skylight, asking if he was okay, but he ignored him in favour of laying down to catch a bit of sleep. 

As long as nobody was stupid enough to leave the RV, everything should be fine while the horde passed. There was no choice but to ride it out at this point. 


	2. Rick Rises

“Shane!” A familiar voice called, and it filled him with a pleasant warmth, a grin tugging at his lips. He opened his eyes to find none other than Rick Grimes staring back.

Frank laughed and clapped him on the back when he sat up.

“Shit man, thought you were dead!” Rick had a huge grin on his heavily bearded face as he pulled ‘Shane’ in for a brief hug.

Frank noticed the horde was gone and that the group were milling about the abandoned cars on the highway, no doubt looking for food.

“Brother,” Rick said in a subdued voice, not noticing the slight wince at the term. Frank had a brother before, and been betrayed all the same. That title only gave him pain, but he couldn’t explain that to Rick, couldn’t tell him who he was.

There was no doubt that he would know who his buddy ol’ pal ‘Shane’ really was. So he went along with it, thankful once again for the other man’s obtuse, trusting nature.

Frank looked back from scanning the area for anything nasty creeping out of sight of the others. There was a serious expression on Rick's face, one that he never used too often - which made it all the more important that Frank listen to him.

“Thank you...for--” Rick’s brows pulled together as he struggled to express himself. Lori was always telling him to ‘ _speak, just fucking say something_!’

Frank had never particularly liked the woman, but it wasn’t his place to get into their marriage so he left it alone. But he could see the effect she had on his partner, how her nagging only made it harder for him as the anxiety built.

Frank was more patient, he waited for Rick to collect his thoughts, staring out at the treeline across the road.

“Thank you for taking care of my family, Shane. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, especially with Lori….” Rick trailed off as Frank looked back, startled. He didn’t expect Rick to see the disgust and mild hatred he had for his wife.

He certainly never addressed it when they would talk in the squad car as they waited for something to do. Had he been that transparent? Or was Rick more intuitive than he had originally thought? What else did he know….

The sound of the RV door banging shut brought him from his thoughts.

“ _Hey! Keep it down, there could be more walkers nearby!_ ” He hissed when he was greeted with the sight of a sheepish Glenn, the boy kept his gaze on his toes as he nodded, face red, before scampering off to look through another car.

Rick chuckled from next to him.

“Poor boy, he probably wet himself. You’re way too intense man.” Rick teased good naturedly, sitting back on his haunches as they both watched the group milling about somewhat cautiously--as they should after such a large horde had just passed them not even two hours ago.

Frank slung an arm around his friend and pulled him in close, thankful that the subject was let go for the moment. He wasn’t used to that kind of thing and it felt awkward.

“Gotta tell ya’, Rick, it’s damn good to see you man. But how did you find us? I left your cold dead ass back in that hospital.” He joked and saw Rick grimace a bit, but there was a certain crinkle of his eyes that let Frank know the joke hadn't fallen completely flat.

Rick pursed his lips, taking another long moment to think of the words before recounting his amazingly terrifying journey of discovery, he finished with seeing his wife and son after so long.

“I honestly thought I would never see them again…” Rick finished, watching his son play with another little girl he thought was named Sophia.

Frank whistled quietly, impressed that Rick had adapted so quickly to this new life--most people struggled with it, denied that their friends and family, their neighbours, were nothing more than hungry monsters now.

“Damn, you are one _lucky_ sumbitch, Rick” Given what the world was like now, it would have been almost impossible for him to find them, they weren’t even in kentucky anymore. He was sure it was some sort of sheer dumb luck that brought them back together again.

Even so, he was happy it had. He needed someone with him to lead these idiots, he was too much of a hardass to take their _‘feelings’_ into consideration when making choices.

Rick could be the balm to that sting, calm the others down so they didn’t do anything stupid that would get everyone killed.

Frank let go as Lori approached the RV, looking up at them like she’d swallowed a lemon.

“Rick, everyone’s gone through the cars and gathered what we can, but it’s not enough. People are _starving_.” She said, sliding an accusing eye over to Frank.

A few years ago that kind of disrespect would have ruffled his feathers something nasty, but now he was used to it. His dislike for her was mutual.

Though Rick wasn’t used to it, and looked surprised at the thinly veiled hostility his wife was showing his best friend.

“Lori-” he started, but was cut off by Frank, who held up a hand. It was already plain to see who Lori wanted to be the leader of this group - the husband she thought she could control.

So Frank made sure to answer instead and watched with feral glee as her face twisted into an ugly snarl.

“Okay, thanks for telling us. We should get moving then, there should be a shopping center due east of here. Please tell everyone to pack up and get ready to move.” Frank instructed benevolently, completely undermining her bad attitude.

He found the phrase ‘ _kill them with kindness_ ’ worked for dealing with the insufferable woman.

She would only make herself look like a fool as long as he didn’t rise to the bait she insisted on setting out. Lori looked over to her husband, expecting some kind of back up, even though Frank hadn’t actually done anything that warranted her outrage.

Rick just shook his head, partly exasperated partly amused at his friend as a satisfied smirk curled the marine’s lips when she turned her back to go do as she was told. She couldn’t disobey him openly in front of the group, that would put her standing in jeopardy.

Frank wouldn't put it past these people to make her an outcast. After all, Frank had been nothing but polite and fair to her since day one.

'As far as they know, anyway~' Frank thought with some amusement. For all they knew, her attitude was completely unjustified--which, for the most part it was. They were just like water and oil, but they were all adults.

Just because they didn’t like each other didn’t mean Frank had to get into pointless petty fights that would ultimately put a rift in the group. Everyone needed to work together in order to survive. A fractured group was the last thing he wanted.

“You’re good at this.” Rick smiled and placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder, using it to get up. Frank grunted, brushing off the comment as he did the same.

“Come on, we need to help the others.” He said, swinging down the ladder and onto the road. Though it looked like they'd found a lot in the cars around them, none of it was edible. Instead it was other things like clothes and a first aid kit, or some gas canisters for a cooker.

So they would still need to find this town’s version of ‘Wal-mart’ and somewhere to make camp for the night. They were on a highway not too far from the small town’s epicenter, where they would hopefully find everything they needed.

Before the horde came, he'd been pushing cars out of the way and now there was a straight line down the middle of the traffic snarl.

They grabbed the heavier stuff the others couldn’t lift, taking it either to the RV or one of the few other cars that were part of their party. Carol gave a grateful smile when Frank took the box full of cooking utensils off her hands.

The woman rarely spoke, even after her abusive husband had an _unfortunate ‘accident’_ a couple of days after joining Frank and was now six feet under. Something like that, Frank figured, would take some time before she was able to function as anything more than a frightened mouse.

Soon they were moving again, Daryl riding shotgun in Frank’s Jeep at the rear while his brother Merle headed the pack on his motorbike. Rick rode with his family in one of the sedans behind the RV.

Daryl was another one that never talked much, Frank had noticed. But the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact it was a welcome reprieve sometimes when the chatter of the others got to be too much.

So it was surprising when Dixon was the first to break it.

“Are you sure we can trust him?” He asked, voice quiet as if he didn’t want anyone else to know what they were talking about. Which was moot as the roar of the engine and the wind made it impossible for the others to hear him.

Frank thought about it for a moment, letting the cool air calm his feverish skin after such a hot day. His immediate response would have been _‘yes’_ , but he knew what Daryl meant. _‘Can we trust him with our lives?_ ’ And that was a little more tricky.

“He won’t stab you in your sleep, at least.” Frank said seriously, despite the words themselves sounding like he was trying to make light of the situation. Daryl nodded, seeing the words for what they were; ‘ _don’t trust him to lead you_ ’.

Daryl was fine with that, Shane was doing a good job corralling these suburbaners into the right direction. Even his brother listened to the hulk of a man beside him. Merle'd said once when they were in their tent that their leader was ex-military of some kind.

Said he could smell it on him, along with something else that made his brother offer his submission right away instead of fighting back like he normally would, were it anyone else.

In contrast, Rick seemed too soft to be a proper leader, especially in the kind of world they lived in now where it was kill or be killed. In Daryl’s opinion Officer Friendly would be better at keeping them together with pretty words and _compassion_. He could tell that was something the man next to him didn’t exactly excel at.

But that didn’t matter, because the Dixons were just as bad, if not worse at the whole ‘ _feelings’_ thing.

“If you stare at me any harder, I’ll catch fire.” Frank teased, uncomfortable with the attention. Daryl startled, resolutely turning his head back to the scenery whizzing past them.

There was a chuckle beside him and a hint of warmth spread across Daryl’s high cheekbones. Nope, feelings were just something the Dixons didn’t do that well.


	3. The Rain Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit. My muse has a short attention span. I went through it all again and changed/added some things so you guys might wanna read it from the beginning. I also know, like, nothing about mechanics so....

The ‘supermarket’ turned out to be a series of shops lined on either side of a small road that ran a few streets from the highway. Frank, Daryl, Merle and Rick went through each one, dispatching any walkers inside before they let their people gather what was left of the supplies. 

They were lucky this place was a little off the beaten path, it meant it hadn’t been picked clean yet and there was plenty of food and medical supplies. Despite the veritable smorgasbord of stuff everyone was bringing back to the congregation, Lori still looked like she wanted to have a go at him. 

She had what Frank had dubbed her ‘bitch’ face on, she was reeling for a fight. Frank just felt amused that she thought she could get a rise out of him. 

He did have to thank her, though. She taught him the importance of patience, that he didn’t need to hit everything that disagreed with him.

The ‘punisher’ side of him had never left, but he could somewhat control it, saving it for when he would need to protect the group. 

It wasn’t easy, but he kept at it because it was better than being a loose cannon that would go off at the wrong time and get everyone killed. These little tiffs Lori tried to throw at him also served to solidify his role in the group as it demonstrated how cool headed he was. 

Rick, on the other hand, was having a hard time getting around the fact that his wife was acting so childishly. 

“Don’t worry about it man, we’re just a cat and a dog--we were destined to hate each other.” Frank soothed with a grin as he jangled his dog tags pointedly. 

He'd always kept them, unable to part with that part of his life when he became 'Shane Walsh', just as he still carried the photo of his family wherever he went. 

He just made sure no one could see the name engraved on them. 

Lori had stormed off back to their sedan to sulk after another failed attempt, this time she was a little less subtle in trying to pit the two men against each other. It might have worked, in another life, if Frank wasn't who he was.

Andrea smirked as she went past, thoroughly amused by the other woman’s attempts. She was glad her and Amy had found this group, they were so entertaining to watch. 

“And what are you smiling about?” Lori demanded angrily, she knew the answer, but if she couldn’t knock Shane off his high horse then she could at least kick Andrea down a peg or two. 

_ She  _ was supposed to be the Queen of this group--the one all the other women went to for advice and instructions, but her plan to seduce Shane had failed and she was spitting mad. 

So now she planned to outright usurp him altogether, if she could just get Rick to stop clinging to the fag….

“I was just thinking about how pathetic you look. It was funny.” Andrea said matter of factly, not losing her grin even when Lori spluttered and glowered at her like a pissed off cat. 

The image made her laugh and she continued on her way over to her sister without a backward glance, who was packing the new stuff they’d found into various sized bags and boxes, even garbage bags were used to hold some of the lighter stuff in bulk. 

‘ _ A cat and dog, indeed…’ _ She purred, a memory of watching Shane bath back at the Quarry, dog tags shining in the morning sunlight as water droplets cascaded down a chiseled chest, all the way down to--

"--drea! Hey Ang! What are you doing just standing there! Help me please!" Her sister snapped delicate fingers in front of her face and she blinked. 

She suddenly realised she'd been following the object of her fantasy with her gaze and blushed, turning back to her sister when said sexy man winked at her. 

_ God  _ she was so embarrassed! She knew he didn't swing that way, he can't. After all, he'd resisted Lori's advances--something a straight man in the fucking  _ apocalypse  _ couldn't afford to turn down.

She chewed her lip as she glanced back to him before sighing and pulling up her sleeves to help her sister. 

"All the good ones are either taken or gay…" She muttered, unaware of the sour gaze boring into her back like a snake with its prey. 

Lori's lips curled, a new plan already forming in her mind...

The brewing tension between Lori and Shane sent a thrill of fear up Carol’s spine, making her want to keep her distance from the both of them. Even after all Shane had done for her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something  _ off  _ about the man. 

His intense stare gave her the chills and the way he held himself spoke of  _ many  _ fights, his whole persona felt dipped in violence and Carol'd had enough of that with Ed. 

She knew it was ridiculous for her to be afraid of him, he had been nothing but friendly with her and Sophia--to most of them, actually. 

But it was an instinct ingrained in her that she just couldn’t get rid of, so she settled for trying to avoid the problem altogether. 

Lori just made her nervous, Carol wasn’t used to being around such a...  _ strong-minded _ woman like her. Carol shook her head slightly and picked up a box to take to the sedan she shared with the Grimes family.

Merle watched their leader as he bent over the grill of the RV, smoke billowing out from the engine. He watched the way the muscles in his thick arms rippled as Shane turned the wrench this way and that. 

He had certainly kept himself in shape since his service to the military, and Merle wished he could say the same. But he had gotten into some heavy stuff to try and numb himself to the nightmares and panic attacks. 

The only important thing to him then had been where he would be getting his next fix--he was not exactly Mr. Healthy over here even now. But he was still strong, could still fight. 

That was what was important right now; being able to defend yourself and others. And Merle had no doubt the man in front of him could fight. He hadn't been there when the horde had swept by, he was out meeting 'Officer Friendly' but his brother brought him up to speed.

“What is it with Dixons and staring?” Frank asked lightly, startling the older brother into looking away--unknowingly mimicking exactly what Daryl had done in the same situation. Frank grinned and turned back to the task at hand. So predictable. 

But there was also something pure about them that drew him in. He guessed he craved something he no longer had so he surrounded himself with pure and innocent people. And for all that they'd probably done, they weren't bathed in blood like Frank was. To him they were still pure, still somewhat innocent.

He’d been doing it for years subconsciously, surrounding himself with good people, and only realised that fact when he really looked at himself and everything that lead up to him being sent to Cynthiana. 

Merle cleared his throat, waving a hand at the still smoking caravan. 

“What’s wrong with it?” He asked, hoping to sweep that earlier awkward moment under the proverbial rug. But that just seemed to amuse the other man more.

Frank sighed, looking at the pitiful black guts of their pack mule. He was honestly surprised it had gotten them as far as it did before quitting. It looked like Dale had held it together with duct tape and a whole lot of faith, which was now only adding to the problem. 

“It’s fucked.” Frank said finally, chucking his wrench back into the tool box at his feet with a metallic  _ thunk _ . Frank cleaned his hands on the rag that he'd stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans. 

He squinted at the sunlight bouncing off the hood and ran a hand down his face, skin slick with sweat. It was too damn hot to be wearing clothes. He wanted to go back to their base at Atlanta so he could take a swim in the lake there. 

But it was never good to be in one place for too long when there were always enemies near by, which had been a good mindset considering the direction that herd had taken. 

They would have been sitting ducks if they'd stayed any longer, trapped in the bowl the mountains made.

Merle frowned. “How  _ fucked  _ are we talking?” Frank pointed at a black tube that was more duct tape than rubber. 

“Radiator hose is cracked, making everything so hot the fucking  _ duct tape _ is starting to  _ melt _ .” Frank stopped and took a calming breath, taking in the familiar smells of petrol to help ground him. 

He needed to stay calm, after so much work he couldn’t lose his shit on something like this. It was  _ just  _ their lifeline, after all. 

_ 'No, focus. Calming breaths, in and out. Okay, better.' _ Frank opened his eyes to see both Daryl and Merle staring at him,  _ again _ . He suppressed the urge to snap at them, he really didn’t like being stared at. It always made him uncomfortable, even when he was a kid.

Frank was just a ‘stay in the shadows’ kind of guy. Which he knew directly contradicted his leadership skills but humans were more than 2 dimensional beings  _ dammit _ . 

“Everything alright over here?” Dale asked from behind him, curious as to how the man would fix a piece of junk like his old RV. But he could also see the growing tension and didn't want any fighting, he fancied himself the mediator of the group, the voice of reason. Though with Shane on the case, he hadn't needed to be.

“Dale, man, why didn’t you tell me it was  _ this  _ bad?” Frank groaned, if only he had known before this point he could have done something a little better than Dale wrapping his problems in fucking duct tape. 

Dale pursed his lips with his hands behind his back as he rocked on the balls of his feet. 

“I’m sorry Shane, but I didn’t think it was this bad, myself. One thing led to another and….” Frank stared at him, before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I need you to trust me, to tell me when there’s a problem--otherwise how am I supposed to fix it?” Frank was proud of himself for not shouting, Dale hadn’t meant any harm. But he could tell the older man wasn't really getting it.

“Did you think that we could afford to be stranded in a world like this?” Frank pressed, trying to understand the man’s thought process so that hopefully he could intercept it in the future so something like this didn’t happen. 

They were completely fucked if another horde chose to sweep through this little junction. It was way too narrow for it, the RV would be bowled over. It was that stress that made his voice a little sharper than necessary and he grimaced. 

But he couldn't apologise or take it back, that would lessen the impact and shit like this would just continue to happen.

The older man was still cowed by his tone, though, and ducked his head like a child. It clearly amused Merle, as there was a barely audible snort behind him. 

Dale hadn’t thought about what would happen if the old girl broke down; that they would be left helpless. He felt ashamed of himself for not immediately telling the one man that had saved their bacon more times than the proud old man wanted to admit, that there was a problem like this. 

Dale had honestly thought he could handle it himself, didn’t think that duct tape might not be the end-all and cure-all like he had in his youth with his mother’s car. 

He recalled now that whenever his methods failed he had simply taken the mazda to the shop and it was magically fixed for him. He couldn’t do that now, there was nobody to take the RV to in hopes of fixing his mistakes.

“I’m sorry, Shane.” He said earnestly this time, shoulders slumping slightly in his guilt. His stupidity had put everyone in danger--had put the  _ kids  _ in danger--and that was unacceptable in Dale’s eyes. 

The man before him nodded with a small smile of acceptance, but that was not enough. Dale would make sure to never do something so thoughtless again, he wouldn’t be responsible for jeopardising his people’s safety. 

Frank eyed the way Dale slunk off to go gather gas with T-Dog, never looking up from his sandals. 

“Was I too hard on him?” Frank asked and he didn’t know if he was just thinking out loud or if he expected the Dixon brothers to answer him. Either way he was slightly startled when a warm hand was placed on his shoulder. 

“You did the right thing, he needed to know what his silence could have costed us.” Rick soothed, eyeing the two brothers as they cleared their throats and wandered off. He figured they were grateful they weren’t the ones that had to try and cheer up their leader.


	4. The Way Things Are

"So, where'd you serve?" Merle finally asked after stewing on the question for hours as they sat around their small fire pit. They were off to the side of the RV on the dirt and away from the main road of the shopping district, out of sight. 

Even then, Shane had insisted on only a small flame, enough to cook some dinner and maybe warm themselves but that was it,  _ 'nothing flashy' _ he'd said.

Most of the others had gone off to 'bed', which consisted of whatever soft surface they could make for themselves. Him and his brother were the only ones with an actual tent and no one was stupid enough to try to take it from them. 

The kids and Carol were in the RV, since she was the unofficial minder of all things underage because she couldn't really do much else.

Frank sighed and sunk down more against the side of the RV, pulling his blanket closer around his shoulders as his dark gaze watched their surroundings. He missed Rick, Glenn, Andrea and Daryl perking up at the question, equally as interested.

Frank pursed his lips, debating on how much to tell them. People seemed to forget that the Punisher was originally a Soldier, a Marine. He pulled out his dog tags from under his shirt, rubbing a thumb over the bump of his name. He would always be Frank Castle, no matter what name he told people.

"I was a lieutenant in the Middle East;" He cleared his throat, voice quiet. "Iraq, Afghanistan, you know, the usual." He gripped the tags, the metal edge biting into his palm as he forced the memories back. They had no place here. 

"Marine Corps, Recon." He offered stiffly when he saw Andrea's mouth open to, no doubt, ask that very question. Tellingly, her jaw clicked shut and she looked away. She didn't like the heavy atmosphere and the pain in that dark gaze.

Rick was surprised at the admission, despite having seen the dog tags--he'd just thought they were ornamental, not  _ real _ . They'd never talked about it, and now that Rick was thinking of it, he realised they hadn't talked about Shane's life  _ at all  _ in all the years they'd been partners. 

_ 'Well, that certainly explains a few things.' _ Rick thought as he picked up the half eaten can of beans he'd set down by his foot to cool. He'd left it a little too long on the grate and it tasted a little metallic.

He looked over at the man he just now realised he barely knew. He was met with raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk, like Shane knew what he was thinking and found it funny. Rick mock glared at him as he shoved a spoonful of beans into his mouth and that smirk turned into a full grin that was more a flash of teeth before the man was looking elsewhere again, stone faced.

"Woah,  _ that's amazing! _ " Glenn said excitedly, voice dropping to a whisper at the end when Shane shot him a warning look. A dark look passed over both Shane and Merle's faces, but it was Dixon that snapped out; 

"It's  _ not _ , and don't you  _ ever  _ assume it was anything but a  _ fucking bloodbath _ \--" A firm grip on his arm made him stop and look over at his superior, but the man was staring out into the darkness, lips twisted into a grim line. Shane  _ was  _ his superior, Merle had only been a lowly foot soldier in the army after all. It relaxed him somewhat, to know now why he felt the need to defer to the man since the day they met.

There was a sound that none of the others seemed to pick up. Frank put up a finger for everyone to be quiet and rolled into a crouch, pulling out the buck knife he usually kept strapped to his thigh. It was a moment before everyone else heard the moans and groans of the dead and they all stiffened.

Merle put out the low fire immediately and nodded to his brother, who was picking up his crossbow and handing him a machete. They didn't know how many there were but even just one of them could be dangerous if they ignored it.

" _ Protect the kids. _ " Frank hissed to the Dixons, gesturing for the others to head that way too. Thankfully, they did as they were told and Frank was free to disappear into the darkness like he was trained to.

Daryl was surprised when the first body thudded to the ground, dead. He hadn't even heard the man  _ move _ , or the normal metallic  _ squelch!  _ of a knife piercing through decayed flesh. 

"I didn't think such a big man could move so damn  _ quietly _ ." Andrea whispered from behind them, her own machete clenched in her anxious fingers. Merle snorted.

"He was in fuckin'  _ Recon! _ In the  _ Marines! _ You know what that  _ means _ , woman? That's the hardest program the U.S of A fuckin' has, almost nobody comes outta that with their sanity intact." Another walker hit the dirt and they saw Shane move off to the right of them, dispatching a walker that had managed to sneak up on them.

"We need to go, we can't stay here." he grunted, idly wiping off the blood on the side of his thigh in the temporary lull of the horde. Why was it always a fucking horde? Why couldn't it have just been two loners? But Frank knew how these things operated after only a few months of direct and almost constant contact. There were almost never loner walkers, more of them would always follow.

"But what about the RV? We can't just leave it! It has all our stuff and not everyone will fit in the other cars!" Andrea exclaimed, her panic rising. She didn't want to die! She was only twenty-eight for fuck's sake! She didn't know how Shane could be so fucking calm!

Frank turned to a silent Glenn, who was staring at the blood smeared on his thigh with an odd expression on his face. He would have asked, but he didn't have the time to assess the kid's mental status right now. He needed to get these people out of here before the horde thickened. It wasn't too bad right now, but he knew from experience that could change in a heartbeat.

"Glenn," The boy startled and panicked eyes met his. Frank's lips set into a grim line. "Round everyone up, tell them a horde's on its way and they need to get ready to move. Also, get me Dale, we need the RV up and running." He ordered, already turning away to take down a couple of walkers who were getting too close for comfort.

"Dixons! Flank me!" He commanded with an ease that only came from experience once everyone was alert and where they should be. They were his only soldiers at the moment, the only ones he could rely on to fight. That would change, he would make sure to train the others how to survive. It had been long enough now that his leadership was solidified to ask at least that much of them.

"Andrea! Protect Dale!" Andrea squeaked an approximation of a  _ 'yes!' _ , grip tightening on her machete as she swivelled her head left to right from behind Dale to look into the darkness.

Merle immediately jumped into action, dispatching walkers left and right while still keeping close enough to make sure none of them slipped through to the kids who were now peeking their heads out of the RV windows to see what was going on. His brother followed suit, taking care of some that were a little further away with his crossbow.

"I-I can't fix this without a new hose! And--" Dale shut his mouth when Glenn shoved a familiar tube into his hands. He'd found it earlier that day and just hadn't gotten round to giving it to the man as it was already night by the time he came back from his run.

"Just get it done, Dale! More'll be comin'" Frank warned, clapping the man on the back. He threw his knife, the blade whistling past Andrea's head to embed itself between the eyes of a walker a few feet to the left in her blind spot. 

"Pay attention!" He growled, racing past her shaking form to wrench his knife back out only to impale the next walker with it.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" Glenn hissed as he handed Dale a wrench from the toolbox under his shaking arm. It was too heavy to keep holding but he didn't want to chance forgetting it when they had to leave.

The RV purring to life was like a victory cry at the end of a long battle.

"Alright people! Pack it in! We're leaving!" Frank called, circling around his people to make sure they all made it into either the RV or one of the other cars before jumping into his own Jeep.


End file.
